


Dye Job

by MikeWritesThings



Series: 31 Days of Apex [5]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Flirting, Gen, Hair Dyeing, Humor, it can be platonic cryptane or romantic i dont care which
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25290028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: Octavio dyes his hair to hide the fact that he's going gray in his twenties.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon & Octane | Octavio Silva, Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Octane | Octavio Silva
Series: 31 Days of Apex [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813147
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	Dye Job

**Author's Note:**

> this one's a day early cuz im not gonna have internet access tomorrow lol but anyways day 16--growth
> 
> this counts right. this is hair growing,
> 
> anyways this is based off a hc someone sent me once about octane having gray hairs so yeet

Octavio found his first gray hairs at the age of nineteen. 

He’d been putting in his nose ring, having taken it out because he’d had a sore on the inside of his nostril and it was _really_ fucking painful, when he suddenly noticed something. He’d combed his hair back out of his face, so he could clearly see a few silvery strands at his forehead, pale against the black of the rest of his hair.

Being a dramatic teenager, the first thing he’d done was call Ajay so that he could scream.

When he’d finished yelling in her ear, Ajay had responded in a very blasé way with, “Chill, brother. Gray hairs aren’t so rare in teens. You’ll get over it.”

“But what if I DON’T,” Octavio hissed, pacing back and forth in his large bathroom, the bright vanity lights seeming to highlight the gray hairs. He flinched when he caught sight of his reflection, and ran a hand through his hair in an effort to hide them by parting his hair differently.

“Well, you like doing everything fast,” Ajay said, and he did _not_ like the humorous tinge to her voice. “You'll get old fast, too.”

Octavio hung up on her.

He had _real_ reason to worry—his father was not an old man, one year away from forty, and yet his hair was currently almost entirely gray, with only faint streaks of black that looked like an even darker shade of gray. Even when he’d been a child, his father’s hair had had a lot of gray in it, so Octavio figured that he was genetically disposed to going gray at an early age—but he had hoped that those genes would skip him, or at least be polite and wait until he was a little older, but that was evidently not the case.

At least his father still had his hairline and a full head of hair. It meant that Octavio wasn’t going to go bald any time soon.

He squinted at his reflection again, moving his hair back to get a clear look at the gray. It was only noticeable because of the vanity lights and the fact that he was so close to the mirror, he told himself. And hey, maybe Che was right, and this was a normal teen thing, not a _‘my dad looks like Santa Claus at age thirty-nine’_ thing!

He flinched once again at the thought of looking like his father once he was older. Octavio looked like a fair even mix of both of his parents (even if he’d only ever seen his mother in pictures) but people often told him that he looked just like his father, and this _certainly_ wasn’t going to help matters.

When he left the bathroom with his nose ring back in, he told himself that he wasn’t going to worry about it. Worrying was for losers. He was gonna be fine! And if he wasn’t, well, that was just another thing to hate his father for.

* * *

Flash forward five years, and as it turns out, it had _not_ been a fluke. 

Octavio had been ignoring the fact that his hair was getting steadily more gray as he got older, his only small comfort that it at least wasn’t at the same rate as his father’s—probably because he didn’t have a big company to run. But it had gotten significantly more gray since he’d blown off his legs, and when he took off his helmet for what felt like the first time in forever, he was chagrined to see several streaks of it in his otherwise pitch-black hair, mostly at his temples, but extremely noticeable. If he turned his head enough, he could see some at his nape too, and scowled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he remembered his second stepmother telling his father, several years ago. His father had silently ran his hand through his hair, giving himself a long look in the mirror, and she’d noticed. “I think it makes you look dignified. Mature.”

His father had always been more concerned with his appearance than his own son, so Octavio had rolled his eyes at that back then, and he rolled his eyes at it now. He didn’t want to look _dignified_ or _mature._ He wanted to look like how Octane was _supposed_ to look: bright and young, with endless energy to spare. Not like he was getting too old too fast. That was the _one_ thing he didn’t want to do quickly.

The good news was, he had bought cheap box dye the other day, and brought it on the dropship with him, so he could do his hair before the off-season. It was blue, which wasn’t his favorite color, but he’d already gone through green, red, and pink, and he didn’t like repeating colors, so he resigned himself to it.

Octavio opened the bathroom door, helmet and mask tucked under his arm, and came face-to-face with Crypto, who’s hand was outstretched, like he was about to knock. Staring at the other with wide eyes, he could practically _feel_ the other looking at the gray at his temples. They stared at one another in silence, waiting for the other to speak, and Crypto did it first.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, side-stepping him, and Octavio pushed past him, eager to get away. “...Old man.”

Octavio didn’t have a comeback for that—just felt his face flush an embarrassing shade of red as he put his helmet back on to at least hide his hair from view. He wasn’t bothered by much—he usually let most insults bounce right off of him, and sometimes lobbed them back for fun, but this felt much more personal than usual, and he didn’t have it in him today to think of something clever.

He grabbed the box dye from his room, avoiding Che’s watchful eyes, knowing she’d say something along the lines of _You’re going to fry your hair doing that._ He’d have to bleach his hair first, and was supposed to bleach and dye it on different days, but he was impatient, so he would do them both today, damage be damned. 

( _"Oh, nice hair," she'd said when he first dyed it green. "Shame it's probably not gonna last."_

_"Say what you want, hermana, but damaged hair is better than gray hair."_

_"How about no hair at all?"_

_Octavio covered his ears with his hands. "Lalala, I can't hear you."_

_"C'mon, it ain't all bad. You should try growing it out. I hear girls are into old guys these days."_

" _Shut up.")_

When he returned to the bathroom, Crypto was just stepping out, and he felt his face flush again when the other eyed the boxes in his hand. He expected another _old man_ comment to come (which wasn’t _fair_ because Crypto was _seven_ years older than him but his hair was all black _ughhhh_ ), but instead, the other man asked,

“Do you need help with that?”

If Octavio didn’t know any better, he would almost think the other man felt bad for what he had said earlier. But he probably didn’t, because he was an asshole. 

“Why? So you can make fun of me again?” Octavio responded petulantly, before taking it a step further and sticking his tongue out at him. “No thanks, compadre.”

Crypto shoved his hands into his pockets, frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“Is it a medical condition?”

“Leave me alone,” Octavio said, pushing him out of the doorway, before slamming the bathroom door shut behind him, not wanting to talk about his father’s premature grays and how he was unfortunately suffering the same fate. 

He didn’t want to talk to Crypto after that comment he had made, but as he set both boxes down, he was reminded of how much he hated bleaching his hair. His hands were shaky and he often accidentally touched his skin, leaving it burning, so after a moment of consideration he turned around, swinging the door back open. Crypto was still standing there, but staring down at his phone.

“Okay, fine,” Octavio said, changing his tone from petulant to demanding. “Bleach my hair for me.”

Crypto raised his eyebrows at him, but made no move to enter the bathroom. Octavio grit his teeth, before adding, “ _Por favor._ ”

Crypto joined him in the bathroom then, which was much smaller and more dimly lit compared to his bathroom back at home. It felt cramped in here, but he'd rather do it away from the prying, teasing eyes of the other Legends. He sat on top of the toilet, removing his helmet once again as he watched Crypto open up both boxes, putting on the pair of clear gloves that had come with them. His leg bounced as he waited, and after a couple of moments of silence, he asked,

“You’ve done this before?”

Crypto glanced at him, as if debating whether he should answer or not, before returning his attention to taking everything out of the boxes. Finally, when everything was laid out before him, he mumbled, “My sister went gray in her early twenties, too. She used to dye her hair red to hide it.”

A million questions exploded into Octavio’s mind, then— _you had a sister? just red? she didn’t get bored of red? you dyed her hair too? is she fully gray now? have_ you _ever dyed your hair?_ —but he couldn’t figure out which one to ask first.

“Don’t ask questions,” Crypto said, as if reading his mind.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Octavio lied. “Why would I care about your stupid sister, anyway?”

Crypto scowled at him then, and fearing that the other would leave him behind, he blurted out, “Sorry. I’m not having a good day. This shit sucks.”

The other man did something he’d never seen him do before—he smiled.

“You sound just like her,” he mumbled to himself, and Octavio didn’t like these constant comparisons to other people—to his father and now to this random girl he didn’t know—but he kept his mouth shut, because this guy was going to bleach his hair for him, and he didn’t want to make him mad and leave.

The sharp smell of bleach filled the air, and his nose scrunched up at it, but he didn’t say anything as Crypto approached, and the next thing he knew, the cold feeling of it was burning his scalp.

"...Have you ever dyed your hair?" Octavio asked after two painful minutes of silence, and he swore he saw the taller man's nostrils flare in annoyance. Which was fair, considering he'd just said he _wouldn't_ ask questions, but sitting here was so _boring,_ and he'd always found Crypto to be rather interesting.

"I've always wanted to go blonde," Crypto finally said after a while, and Octavio perked up at that. "It'd probably look bad, but I always wanted to try."

"I think you'd look hot with blonde hair," Octavio said, because he didn't have a filter, and Crypto shot him a look, but didn't say anything as he continued lightening his hair. He was being truthful, but he was sure the other thought he was making fun of him.

When the silence continued, Octavio grew uncomfortable, before blurting out, "My dad's all gray."

Crypto hummed, and he took it as encouragement to continue.

"He's always had gray hair even when I was a kid, so I guess it's just a genetic thing, which fucking _sucks,_ because I'm supposed to be all badass, you know?"

"Nobody thinks you're badass," Crypto said mildly, and Octavio scowled. "But I _am_ sorry. For...making fun of you."

"...Whatever, man. You're lucky you're hot."

He caught sight of Crypto's face in the mirror, and felt smug when the other's brows furrowed and his cheeks darkened.

The whole process took a couple of hours, and when it was all over, his black was now a vibrant blue. The color was starting to grow on him, but he still preferred green over it, and he said as much when he had his head bent beneath the showerhead, staining the bottom of the tub blue.

"Thanks," Octavio said as he ran his fingers through his sopping wet hair, before turning the shower off. He'd gotten over the _old man_ comment, and his voice sounded a lot brighter as he added, "For your help."

Crypto didn't respond for a while, and he almost thought the other man had left the room, before he heard him mumble out, "You should try pink."

"Huh?"

When Octavio turned around to look at him, the man looked like a deer caught in headlights, as though he hadn't meant to be heard.

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing," Crypto said, but the words caught up to Octavio then, and he smiled.

"I've done pink before, amigo. It's one of my favorite colors."

Crypto glanced away from him, seeming to debate something, before he smiled at Octavio. Just a slight upturn of his lips that quickly disappeared as he said, "You'll have to show me pictures one day."

**Author's Note:**

> i dont like the ending but i am entirely too burnt out to care 😎


End file.
